


If you like

by Satine86



Category: Primeval
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Post-Series, Romance, Suggestive Themes, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 14:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10310045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: She was never taking a day off again. Not ever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really late to the party, but I just binged watched the series and fell in love with Connor and Abby. After a little late night pondering (what would early seasons Connor think if he knew one day he'd be Mr Abby Maitland?), coupled with my need for more shippy stuff and my inherent love of the temporary amnesia trope... and this was born.

**_ABBY_**

“Everyone needs a day off.”

It seemed to be the phrase of choice the past few days, Abby thought. Nearly every single person she’d come across had said it, and she supposed they had a point. Between field work and a virus affecting several of the animals in the menagerie, she had been running herself a bit ragged. 

Although that didn’t necessarily mean she would heed their words, just concede the point; not even when Lester threatened to order her home for at least one day of rest.

Not until Connor said it, at any rate. He’d placed his hands on her shoulders, thumbs rubbing soothing little half circles against her skin. Then he’d nodded his head, encouraging her, and smiled. His cheek dimpled and she knew she couldn’t say no. She never could when he smiled like that. 

“Fine,” she had sighed, pretending to make a show of it. His smile had widened and she’d returned it.

The following morning found her in one of Connor’s old tees and not much else, while he thumped around the flat trying to get ready. Abby passed him a thermos full of coffee as he headed out the door, kissing his cheek as she did so. She thought she felt a bit like an old fashioned housewife. 

“You know,” Connor drawled as his eyes swept over her legs, “I clearly made a mistake with this day off business.”

“That so?” 

He nodded, looking slightly pained. “Should’ve told Lester I was taking the day off as well. Didn’t know I’d have to say goodbye this vision though, did I?” With that Connor leaned in to kiss her properly. 

Abby had no doubt he would ditch work, but then they’d get an angry call from Lester and there would probably be yelling, and she really wasn’t in the mood for that. So, she gave Connor another quick peck and then started to gently shove him out the door.

“Tell you what,” she said once he was outside, fumbling with his things. “Maybe I’ll be wearing even less when you get home later. If you like?” 

She didn’t wait for a reply, instead shutting the door on his googly eyed face and laughing as she leaned against the frame. Abby was actually quite looking forward to having the flat all to herself. 

A proper day off. 

 

* * *

She was never taking a day off again. Not **ever**. Abby repeated that mantra to herself, a silent promise as she raced to the ARC, running stop lights as her palms grew sweaty on the steering wheel. 

The car skidded into the parking garage, and she slammed on the breaks as she flung open the door. She left it running and she stumbled into the lift, willing it to move faster. There were voices calling after her, concerned, but she ignored them as she raced to the infirmary.

A guard blocked her way. She was half ready to jam the heel of her palm into his chin, when someone laid a hand on her shoulder, and a familiar voice called her name. She whirled around to find Becker looking at her worriedly, his brows knit tightly together. 

“Where is he?” 

“Abby--”

“Where is Connor?” she ground out, slapping away his hand. “Where is he!?” 

“Give us a moment. Both of you.” Lester appeared behind Abby, coming out from the infirmary, and something about that made her worry even more. Made her insides twist and her heart lurch in her chest. 

Becker looked as if he wanted to say something, instead he shook his head and motioned for the guard to follow him. Abby turned to face Lester fully, quickly taking in his pinched features and pursed lips. To an outsider it might seem like his normal visage, but she had known him too long. She could see the worry etched there. 

“He’s stable,” Lester said before she could ask.

Abby put a hand to her chest, feeling as her heart started beating again. She thought she might need to sit down, but she would do that once she saw Connor with her own eyes. Saw him breathing and whole. 

“He took a rather nasty blow to the head, and you know how those types of injuries can be.” Lester straightened up, looking at a point beyond Abby’s shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” She looked at him from the corner of her eye, trying to read any nuance, any slight change in his demeanor. It was the little things that said the most when it came to James Lester. 

His eyes finally darted toward hers. “He was awake for a short time, the drugs are keeping him sedated at the moment, but he didn’t remember what had happened.” 

That was hardly surprising, a mild concussion could result in temporary memory loss. Even a small bump on the head could knock you silly for a short time. 

“Abby,” here Lester paused, and unfolded his hands from behind his back. He reached out and ever so gently laid his hand on her arm, his eyes soft. “He was asking to see Cutter.” 

That was not what Abby had been expecting, and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She took in a slow breath, oddly grateful for Lester’s reassuring hand on her arm. It was nice not to feel alone in that moment. 

Finally she nodded, accepting the information, and met Lester’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. “I want to see him.” 

 

* * *

 

Despite the stitches at his temple, and the bit of dried blood in his hair, Connor looked as he had that morning. Not when she’d been shoving him out the door laughingly. Not when he’d been cramming toast into his mouth with one hand, hopping across the kitchen floor as he tried to pull on his boot with the other. But when she had rolled over in their bed and found him still sound asleep. Dark lashes brushing his cheeks, hair an unkempt mess that begged to be brushed back from his face. 

That morning she had done just that, combing her fingers through his hair, just like she had nearly every morning for as long as they had been sharing a bed. Even longer than that, she reckoned. 

She did it again now, gentle and slow, and willed him to be all right. He would be, he always was. Besides, it was normal to be confused after a head injury. It was normal after an IV drip of pain meds even. He would wake up, groggy, and then it would all slowly click into place. Then everything would be normal. Well, normal by their standards anyway. 

“Abby?” His voice was groggy, rough with sleep. Just like it had been that morning. 

“Yeah, Conn, I’m here.” She moved from the chair to the edge of the bed, watching as Connor blinked open his eyes. He squinted a bit at first, obviously trying to draw her into focus. Once he did, he looked at her first with relief then with confusion. 

“Your hair’s different.” 

She frowned, the worry flaring back to life. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is,” Connor argued. “How long have I been out? It’s grown so much.” He lifted a hand, as if he intended to touch the longer strands, then seemed to catch himself and dropped his hand again, glancing away from her face. He looked so sad it made her heart lurch again. 

“What happened, Abby?” 

“You hit your head, it’s a good thing it’s so hard.” She tried to be light, like in the old days, but it was hard to remember how. Not after all they’d been through together. He was looking at her closely, and suddenly she wondered how much older she must look. 

It wasn’t something she was worried about, or ever thought of really. But surely she must, from what he was remembering. She thought of all the grief, all the stress and worry, and surely she must look older. She was older. In that moment she thought she felt quite ancient. 

Abby took a breath, and relayed what the team had told her. The details of the injury, what the medical staff had said. Mild concussion, temporary memory loss. Temporary, or so they hoped. Before she could tell him how big the gap was, someone knocked on the wall and rustled the curtains separating Connor from the rest of the infirmary.

Startled, Abby jumped to her feet and pulled back the curtain enough to reveal Becker’s worried face. 

“They said he’s awake?” Just beyond Becker, Abby could make out the others, all equally worried and hopeful. 

“Yeah, he’s up. He’s--”

“Abby? Is that Stephen?” Connor called from behind her, and she felt her face crumple. Just a bit. 

Becker looked as if he was going to say something, but Abby shook her head. He nodded in understanding, and reached out to give her hand a quick squeeze before turning to the others and ushering them away. 

“Will you need a ride home later?” Becker hissed before he left completely.

“No, we’ll be fine. Thank you.” She managed a tight smile before letting the curtain flutter back into place and turning to face Connor again. 

He struggled to sit up and fixed her with a look of confusion and worry, she felt her heart break for what she had to do. Swallowing thickly, Abby squared her shoulders and perched herself on the edge of the bed again.

Without thinking she reached out and took his hand, cradling it between both of hers. His eyebrows shot upward, obviously startled by the action.

“Connor,” she said gently, as if she were speaking to a spooked animal. “You have a gap in your memory. A big one.”

“That’s why your hair is different.”

“Right.” Abby nodded slowly, wet her lips.

“And that wasn’t Stephen.” 

“No, it wasn’t.”

 

* * *

 

He had cried and she had held him until the tears stopped. The medic said he needed more rest, and he had agreed, his red-rimmed eyes drooping with exhaustion. Abby stayed until he woke again in the morning, obviously trying to hide his surprise at finding her still there. 

After a few tests and a scan, he was given clearance to go home, much to Abby’s relief. Surely that meant things were looking up?

A quick change of clothes later, Abby was leading Connor through the corridors of ARC, heading toward the garage. Connor was mesmerized by the new set-up, all the new tech. She remembered their adjustment period after returning from the Cretaceous, how lost they had both felt. 

As they went along, she tried her to best to answer his questions. He was enthusiastic and persistent, curious about everyone and everything. It was familiar, and it was nice. The ride home was easy enough, chatting about nothing in particular, like they always did. Then he noticed they were taking a different route.

“We don’t live in the same flat anymore,” Abby told him, waiting for the light to change. She wasn’t ready to tell him why, that would come later. 

“Oh, right,” he sighed, nodding a little sadly. “It’s been years, hasn’t it? Silly to think we’d still be flatmates, yeah?” 

“We’re still flatmates, Connor. We just have a better place now.” 

“We are?” He sounded so hopeful, so genuinely happy that Abby had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. 

Connor cleared his throat nervously. “I mean that’s, uh.. that’s _cool_.” He failed to actually _sound_ cool, and Abby bit her cheek a little harder. 

 

* * * 

 

His reaction to the new place was what she imagined it would be. Excitement and boundless energy, even with a head injury. He spent several minutes acquainting himself with the layout, looking at various objects and trying to remember them.

Abby found herself smiling as she watched him. There were times when she missed the old place, at least all the memories it held, but something about it had always been hers. Mostly her things, her name on the lease. 

This though? This was _theirs._

Most everything was new, things they had picked out and decided on together. Bits of him, and bits of her, and things that were a blend of both. Her plants lined the windows, and there was a desk covered in computer parts and tech that he was always trying to put together or take apart. She was never sure. 

“It’s pretty posh, isn’t it?” Connor said, running a hand over the back of the sofa. 

“Yeah, we do all right.” Abby smiled and pushed away from the door, heading toward the kitchen. She was starving, and she was certain he was as well. She’d planned dinner the night before, something grand for Connor to come home to. But that wouldn’t suit for breakfast.

“Abby?” Connor’s voice sounded strained, as if he couldn’t quite get enough air to speak. She whirled around from the fridge and found him standing just inside the kitchen, looking a touch pale, but his eyes… his eyes were bright. 

“What’s this?” He held out a picture frame that lived in the entryway. Her breath hitched as she looked at the photo inside. It was her favorite from that day, and it hadn’t even been planned. The shots from the photographer had been lovely, but this one Jess had snapped off-hand. 

Dressed in an impeccable suit, Connor was smiling for the camera, his cheek dimpled in the way that always made her heart flutter. His arm was around Abby’s waist while she leaned flush against him, oblivious to the camera and instead focusing her gaze on Connor. Her smile was just as wide as his.

“A photo,” she said dumbly, her brain and mouth trying to work together. “From our wedding.”

He just stared at her, and she felt oddly nervous under his gaze. She hadn’t wanted to drop that particular bomb yet, nor in this particular fashion. It seemed too much, too soon. Maybe he wouldn’t… maybe he didn’t even feel that deeply for her? When had his feelings gone from infatuation to love? 

Suddenly the room seemed too small, her chest tight. What if this version of Connor didn’t love her that way, didn’t want her?

She was pulled from her thoughts by a strangled noise from Connor. “I’m just… I’m gonna have a little sit.” He barely managed to sink into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, crashing down like his legs had given way. 

“We’re married?” he asked after a moment, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. 

Abby nodded and crossed the room, kneeling by his side. “We are. Is that… Connor, are you okay?” 

“I can’t feel anything, right now. Bit like floating, kinda nice really.” His head was turned toward the table, but his eyes were unfocused. Then he glanced down at his hand, noticing the lack of a ring. He squinted at the tattoo on his ring finger.

“I thought for sure I would lose a ring,” Abby explained, raising her hand to lay it next to his. “I wanted something more permanent.” 

“So you think this is going the distance then? You and me?” He spoke lightly, in that joking way he used when he didn’t know what else to say. 

“I’d been hoping,” she returned, feeling the need to be honest. “I--Connor, is this all right?” 

“I just woke up and found out I’m married to the woman of my dreams, I’d call that a little better than all right.” 

“The woman of your dreams, hm?” Maybe he _had_ always loved her. 

He flushed and Abby couldn’t help but laugh. He floundered for the right words. “I mean, is that okay? To say?” 

“Yes.” She wanted to touch him, to kiss him and remind herself that he was alive and there and whole. Except this wasn’t Connor, her husband. This was Connor, her friend. Anything she did would be a first for him, and that made her chest tighten again. 

Abby reached out and cupped his cheek, it was compromise, and it would have to do. He was smiling though, and that was good. Before she could stop herself though, Abby leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, against the dimple that was just starting to show. 

Connor froze, sitting stock still and hardly breathing. Abby pulled back, let her thumb brush his cheek affectionately before withdrawing her hand and standing up. 

“Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll make up something to eat, yeah?” She pointed down the hall, toward the bedroom. Their bedroom. That thought made her heart twinge. 

“Bathroom is just there, top dresser drawer has your things.” He nodded slowly, as if in a daze, before seeming to snap to and following her instruction.

 

* * *

 

When Connor still hadn’t emerged from the bedroom over half an hour later, Abby went to offer her… what? Assistance? Maybe he had trouble finding his trousers? Truthfully, she just hated being away from him for so long. A feeling she hadn’t really felt this strongly since they’d returned from the Cretaceous, when fifteen minutes could’ve meant the difference between life and death. 

She rapped her knuckles against the door, “Connor?” 

When he didn’t answer, she pushed it open slowly. Though what was the worst that could happen? She’d see him naked? Nothing new there. 

She found him seated in the middle of their bed, clad in a pair of sweatpants and an old tee, his hair still damp. He had his legs folded as he gazed down at the spray of photo albums and things strewn across the duvet.

Connor looked up when he noticed her presence, a hangdog expression marring his face. It wasn’t just sadness, it was longing and fear and regret. It broke her heart, truth be told. 

“I don’t remember this, Abby.” He gestured toward the album she knew contained wedding photos. The ceremony had been small, and taken place on a sunny day in the spring. Which had been nothing short of a miracle, since the following days had brought a stormfront, and rain had pelted London for the better part of a week. Not either of them cared, they’d had it off. A honeymoon of sorts. Just the pair of them holed up in their flat, with only food deliveries to interrupt them.

_“We’re married!”_ Connor would exclaim to every delivery person that had shown up, much to their bewilderment. _“That is Abigail Temple, my wife!”_

He had been so proud, so deliriously happy. So had she. 

Abby settled down on the foot of the bed, facing him with the photos between them. Connor looked up at her, face still full of sadness.

“I want to remember all of this, Abby. I want to remember _us._ ”

“You will, just give it time. Then everything will be back to normal again.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from you, it’s to have hope.” Abby frowned at the albums and then carefully shoved them aside, scooting herself closer to Connor. “It’s always been you and me, and it always will be. We made a promise a long time ago that we’d face everything together, so we’ll face this. And if I have to tell you everything, then I will.”

“Why though?” he asked, then blinked as if he was surprised he’d actually said that out loud. “I mean why me? I wished and hoped and dreamt and wanted. God, I wanted -- _want_ \-- you, Abby. But why me? Why say yes to me?”

“Actually,” Abby said with a slow smile, “you said yes to me. I asked.” 

“Did you, now?” That only seemed to confuse him more.

“I did. Because I love you, you daft man.” Then she rocked forward and kissed him. It was natural, something she’d done a thousand times. Though for Connor it was new, and unexpected. He stiffened slightly as their lips made contact, just like their first kiss after saving Jack. Eventually Connor responded, just like the first time, and it was nice. More than. Just like the first time. 

This time though, when she pulled back she stayed to look at the adorably dazed look on his face. The way he stayed frozen in place for a long time afterward. 

“That was...” he trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Just like our first kiss.” 

He smiled at her crookedly, and opened his mouth. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth. His face flushed red and Abby pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

Connor was looking anywhere but her face, and she leaned in closer until she caught his eye, “Our other firsts were good too.” 

Abby didn’t know exactly what made her say it, maybe it was the fact she wanted to ease his embarrassment. There was no need to be. Maybe it was just the fact that he was so utterly adorable when he was flustered, and in a strange way she had missed it. 

“Were they?” The words came out as a squawk, and she thought he sounded a bit like Rex. “I mean, that’s uh, that’s good. Maybe a little surprising, but good,” he rambled. 

“Come on,” she said, taking pity on his gaping. “Breakfast is getting cold.” She rose from the bed and held out her hand. He took it slowly, and Abby laced her fingers with his, guiding him toward the kitchen. 

 

========

_**CONNOR**_

 

He couldn’t seem to stop making her sad every time he opened his mouth. He couldn’t help it, the questions just tumbled out, trying to understand, but he tried regardless. Because if there was one thing Connor Temple never wanted to do, it was to make Abby Maitland sad. 

Abby Temple, a small voice corrected in the back of his mind.

Connor let that thought sit for a while.

It was a dream come true and he couldn’t even remember it. He thought of all the times he’d fantasized about her and him, about the idea that maybe, one day, she’d fancy him the way he fancied her. And here it was, and it didn’t even seem real. 

Only it was.

The flat was real, her things mingling with his without a care. Never had that before. Hers was hers, and his was his. This though? This was theirs. It was nice. Beyond nice, it was wonderful and spectacular and better than anything he had ever imagined it could be… and he didn’t remember a single bit of it.

So many things he couldn’t recall, so many things he never even dared hope for. And all of it gone with a stupid knock to the head. 

They spent the first day reminiscing about things, things that seemed so recent to him but were years old to her. They spoke about Cutter and Stephen and Jenny, Abby mentioned other names too… ones he didn’t know.

She told him about Becker and Matt and some of the soldiers taking him out for his Stag night. Told him how he ended up beyond knackered, in the back of Becker’s SUV, ringing her up to tell her about much he loved her. 

She had grinned at him, fondness softening her gaze.

Abby really did love him. _Him_ , of all people. It wasn’t a crush, like with Stephen, it wasn’t admiration like with Cutter. It was a true, deep love and he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done, exactly, to deserve it. He needed to make sure he kept doing it though, kept earning her love. He did know that much.

When it came time to sleep, Abby took to the sofa. She claimed he needed uninterrupted rest, and maybe she thought he needed a little space as well. He thought a little space sounded good, but he never really needed space from Abby. Though, it had seemed for the best to let her have her way. 

Once he was alone in the bedroom -- _their_ bedroom -- he took to flipping through photo albums again. It seemed odd that they were there, he was pretty sure Abby wouldn’t have put them together. He wouldn’t ever even think of such a thing. He knew that for certain.

He found a note in one, with congratulations written in a neat, distinctly feminine hand. Signed with the name Jess. 

A wedding present, he realized.

There were old pictures, ones of Cutter and Stephen and Jenny. Snapshots from outings in the field. A birthday party at the old ARC, even one of a smiling Lester. How strange. 

There were newer ones, full of faces he didn’t recognize. A tall man with dark hair who looked like he should be starring in an action film rather than out in the field. A cheeky looking fellow who had Connor in a headlock while he laughed. A beautiful woman with dark hair and a kind face. Something about seeing the last two made him sad, though he couldn’t say why. 

There was one of a young woman in a brightly colored dress, smiling broadly for the camera. Somehow Connor knew that was the aforementioned Jess. She looked sweet. 

And there were plenty of photos of him and Abby. Always. 

The wedding photos were the most fascinating to him. 

Abby had looked more beautiful than he ever thought possible. He’d always heard tell of how brides kinda… glowed. He’d always thought it was a load of bollocks just meant to feed into the whole wedding ideal. People didn’t actually glow. 

Except Abby had.

She had looked overjoyed, her cheeks flush with it and her eyes bright. She looked like how a happy bride should look. And more importantly she had looked that way at him. Because of him. 

God, he hoped he knew how lucky he was. Who was he kidding? Of course he did, there was no way he’d ever forget he was the luckiest bastard alive, and all because Abby had agreed to marry him. He knew that even with a head injury.

Connor thought about going to her, to talk to her. To be near her, but he was tired, and it was probably for the best she got some sleep. Himself as well. So he shut the albums and pulled back the duvet. 

The last thing he thought before sleep took him, was that the pillows smelled like Abby. 

 

* * *

 

The next day they returned to the ARC for another check up. Connor couldn’t really fault them for their due diligence. He still needed Abby’s help finding his way though. Soldiers nodded at them as they passed, offering up pleasant hellos and good mornings, and it was all so comfortable. Only Connor couldn’t remember a single one of their names. 

They came across the tall man, the action man, near the infirmary and something jolted for Connor, but it wasn’t quite a memory. 

“You’re Becker,” he said. 

The man looked positively gleeful as he nodded. “That’s right.”

“He was looking at the photo albums,” Abby said behind him. Becker’s face fell a bit, and Connor realized they must be very good mates. The best of mates, probably. 

“Oh, right.” Becker sighed, and moved out of the way. “They’re waiting for you.” 

Connor nodded and walked toward the door, and tried not to feel like he was letting him down. Like he was letting everyone down. Only he was, no matter how hard he pretended he wasn’t. He was the cause of their disappointment. At least that was familiar. 

The check up was routine, the swelling had seemed to have gone down. Which was great, except he still couldn’t remember shite. Other than that he was fit as a fiddle. 

Lester cleared him for desk duty, which allowed Connor to tinker with things in his lab. His own lab, imagine that? He couldn’t remember where he’d left off, but he was impressed with the tech. The future was an amazing place, really. Abby stopped by at one point, brought him a cup of tea. She leaned in, like she was going to kiss him, but thought better of it and straightened up right away. 

He tried not to feel disappointed. He didn’t have a right to, not really. It wasn’t something he was used to, and you couldn’t miss something you couldn't remember. Could you?

She gave him an update on Rex, since he seemed to live mainly in the menagerie now. She also told him about Sid and Nancy.

Connor furrowed his brows at her. “Who?” 

Then she was sad again, and quickly excusing herself. If he hadn’t known better he thought he might’ve caught a stray tear at the corner of her eye, but Abby rarely cried. She wouldn’t be now, would she? That knocked the breath clean out of him, and he looked dejectedly at the cup before him. He’d made Abby cry. 

 

* * *

 

Turned out Connor had been right, he and Action Man were mates. Very good ones. And Jess was just as sweet as you like. 

Lester was still Lester, so at least some things never changed. Which was oddly comforting to Connor, all things considered. 

Emily seemed nice as well, but he was still trying to figure out Matt. Although Emily liked Matt, and Connor took that as a seal of approval. It felt right to be with this group, like it was something he was used to. However, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness when he thought about Cutter and Stephen, and even Jenny. But at least he knew she was happy elsewhere. 

Abby had been absent while Connor caught up with the group, sharing stories and relearning the daily operations. 

Later on, by some miraculous turn of luck, Connor managed to find his way to the menagerie, where he knew Abby would be. She wasn’t alone though, and Connor was surprised, and yet not, to find Matt already there. 

“How’re you holding up, Abby?” he asked in that soft, lilting Irish accent. In that moment Connor could see why Matt was team leader, and why Emily liked him so much. He cared.

There was a moment where Connor debated if he should step forward, but thought better of it. Instead he hung back in the shadows, not wanting to disturb them. Or maybe he was just scared? 

Abby was looking up Matt, but she wasn’t really seeing him. Her eyes had a far away look to them, her chin pulled back slightly while she frowned. After a moment she shook her head, frowned a little deeper. 

“It’s hard, you know?” She fisted her hands on her hips, still staring off into the distance. “Because I look at him, and it’s Connor. He’ll always _be_ Connor; a bit of a nerd, sometimes overzealous and apt to stick his foot in his mouth when he gets to babbling.” 

“And that’s okay, that’s normal,” she continued with a shaky sigh, almost fond. “That’s Connor being Connor, and that’ll never change. But then I look a little closer and I know it’s not _my_ Connor. He looks at me like he used, reverent almost. It would drive me mad, back then, because it felt like he had me on a pedestal, you know? And that wasn’t fair, not to me or him. Now it just makes me sad.” 

Matt reached out and patted her back. “It’s terrible to miss someone when they’re right in front of you.” 

She nodded. “I do miss him. I miss the Connor who stubbornly held onto the last bloody shreds of hope when we were trapped in the Cretaceous. The one who kept both of us going. I miss the Connor who was so stupidly noble that he believed everything Phillip said, because he thought he was doing the right thing. Something grand and good that was going to help people; something that I would be proud of. I miss my husband. And that’s not my husband, not truly.” 

Abby was crying in earnest now, and Connor knew that was a rare sight. Regardless if he had his memories intact or not. He didn’t like being the cause of it, even if there was little he could do to stop it. 

Matt seemed to know better than to try to comfort Abby, instead he just remained a steadfast presence at her side. Offering whatever comfort she felt willing to take as the big fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

“He’ll be okay, I’m sure of it,” Matt finally said. “If there’s one thing I know about Connor Temple, it’s that he can’t deny you anything. He’ll be okay out of sheer force of will, if it means making you happy.” 

She laughed at that, a little watery. “I actually hope you’re right about that.” 

Connor slid further into shadows, feeling horrible, and not just for the headache that was suddenly flaring to life. He wished there was something he could say or do, anything to make Abby feel better, but he knew it was probably better that he stayed away. At least for a bit. At least until they went home.

Or maybe he could stay with Becker? 

He was still contemplating the best course of action, despite the dull throbbing radiating from where his stitches were, when Abby found him. 

“Come on then,” she said brightly, like she hadn’t been crying earlier. “Let’s go home.”

“You sure?” he asked, ready to say he could stay with Becker or at an inn, anywhere so that he wasn’t directly causing her pain.

She studied him for a moment, like she would one of the beasties in the menagerie, her head cocked to the side and eyes slightly narrowed. 

“‘Course I am,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Connor. We’re heading home now, that’s an order.” She smiled, a little teasing, and God help him but Matt was right: he couldn’t deny her anything. 

 

* * *

 

“Abby?” He stopped just behind the sofa, watching as she meticulously fluffed the pillows. She’d gotten ready for bed in the bathroom, changing into a shirt he thought belonged to him, judging by the way it fit her. Then she’d padded out to the living room.

“Yeah, Conn?” 

“I’ll sleep out here tonight, you should have the bed.” He hated kicking her out of her own bed, it didn’t seem right. Though, he supposed one could argue he was kicking himself out of his own bed as well. Seeing as they usually shared it. Not that he lingered on that fact. Much.

“No.” She shook her head, gently tossed the pillow into place. “You need rest, and the bed is much more comfortable. I don’t mind, really.”

Except she did mind. Just like she had the night before, and the night before that. He might not remember much, and there was a lot he didn’t know, but he knew that. As sure as he knew his own name, he knew it. 

“What about a compromise?” This would either be the exact right thing to say, or the exact wrong thing. A fifty-fifty chance, those odds didn’t seem so bad. “We can share the bed, if you like? I don’t mind… if you don’t.” 

She stood there a moment, hands on her hips, and surveyed the makeshift bed that was the sofa. Then she looked up at him, studying him in that distinctly Abby way, and finally nodded. “Yeah, all right,” she said matter of fact, as if she’d agreed to something as simple as a cup of tea. 

He supposed to her it was that simple. To him it was enough to cause a mild coronary. She’d kissed him once, and he’d thought about it many times since. This would be different though, it seemed even more intimate. Though Connor could remember falling asleep with her on the sofa once, at the old flat, when they’d been watching an old movie. 

That had been nice. And not too weird.

This shouldn’t be any different than that time… right? 

Connor decided to keep his mouth shut while they pulled back the blankets and slipped underneath. There were a few minutes spent where they both tried to get comfortable, and eventually Abby reached over and turned out the light. 

Then it was just them and the darkness and the stretch of bed between them. 

“Good night, Connor,” Abby yawned, burrowing a bit deeper into the bed. 

“‘Night, Abbs,” he replied, his voice thin to his own ears. She seemed too sleepy to notice though. Thank goodness for small mercies, he supposed, since he wasn’t likely to get much sleep that night. Not when Abby was right there.

Eventually sleep did claim him, though, because the next thing he knew was that he was waking to darkness and warm breath on his neck. As he slowly came around, he became aware of a lithe body tucked against his, and the sensation of a finger drawing circles on his chest. 

“Abby?” he whispered, felt her stiffen beside him. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered back, scooting away to the other side of the bed. He missed her warmth immediately, and he could hear his own voice in the back of his mind, _‘we should huddle together for warmth.’_ God, he’d been such an idiot. 

He also thought he could hear Abby’s voice, distant, like a memory: 

_‘Close your eyes, imagine a happy place. You’re on a beautiful beach, the sun is shining.’_

_‘Are you there as well?’_

_‘Yeah, if you like.’_

“It’s okay.” Connor rolled onto his side, squinted until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Even then he could only make out her eyes, looking back at him and blinking owlishly. 

They stared at each other for a while, until Connor finally moved. He didn’t think about what he was doing, just raised his arm to lift the blankets a bit, inviting. She was pressed against him in an instant, legs twining with his as one arm wound around his side, palm flat on his back. 

Connor dropped his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, making sure she was cocooned in the blankets. Abby pressed her face against his neck and took in a deep breath. 

“Better?” he asked, trying not to giggle when her breath tickled his skin. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, and now her breath didn’t tickle. It was hot. That wasn’t entirely unpleasant though. 

Time seemed to slow down and speed up at once, they could’ve been wrapped around each other for seconds or hours. He had no idea, and frankly he didn’t really care. Something niggled at the back of his mind though, someone had to keep watch. 

Keep watch for what?

As soon as the thought came, it was gone, evaporating in the still night air. And then Abby’s hand was on his cheek, followed by her lips brushing against where it dimpled. Again, without thinking, he turned his head slightly and then her lips were on his. Soft and slow, as if one of them might spook if things went too fast. The kiss carried on and on, lips brushing and caressing and Connor thought if he died in the next five minutes, he’d die the happiest man on earth. 

Then Abby pushed him backwards and swung one leg over his hips, straddling him as her hands framed his face and she deepened the kiss. Okay, _now_ , he was the happiest man on earth. Luckiest as well. 

Part of him wondered how far it would go, how long they could carry on kissing and touching… and probably other stuff as well. Except he remembered her words from the other day, _“that’s not my husband, not truly.”_ And suddenly it seemed wrong to be kissing her like this.

“Abby?” He panted against her cheek. “I don’t think… we shouldn’t….”

She sat up, looked down at him with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Connor reached up and laid his hand against her cheek, thumb tracing her lip. One day this would be right, wouldn’t feel like a weird violation. But that wasn’t today. 

She nodded in understanding, and slid off him. He expected her to retreat back to the other side of the bed, but instead she cuddled next to him again. Comfortable and content. 

Connor resettled the blankets, and wrapped an arm around Abby’s shoulders. They both drifted off to sleep, peacefully wrapped around each other.

 

* * *

 

Connor woke unusually early the next morning, just as the sun was rising and well before Abby had even started to stir. 

Quietly as he could, he slipped out of bed without disturbing Abby. As soon as he was gone, she rolled over and took his place, sighing as she snuggled into the warm spot. Despite himself, he smiled softly and pulled up the blankets over her shoulder. 

Padding into the bathroom, he flipped on the lights and immediately regretted as pain shot through his skull. Yanking open the medicine cabinet, he shook out a couple of painkillers from the bottle the medic had given him and swallowed them down. He hoped they would kick in soon.

Looking in the mirror, he carefully examined his stitches, it’d still be a few more days before he got them out. Maybe it’d scar? That would be kinda cool, wouldn’t it? Make him a little bit mysterious. Waggling his eyebrows at his reflection, Connor slipped out of the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen. 

Abby had made breakfast the past three mornings, it seemed only fair that he step up. A full breakfast, he decided, setting the pan to heat on the stove. He busied himself for the next little while, humming while he cooked. 

Connor was so focused on his task that he didn’t even notice when Abby blearily padded into the room behind him. 

“Mm, mornin’,” she mumbled and Connor turned around just in time to see her rubbing sleep out of her eyes, her hair tangled and mussed from sleep. And his fingers the night before. Probably. 

He smiled as she stopped by the coffee pot, retrieving her favorite mug from the cupboard. “You know,” he drawled.“I’ve decided I really did make a terrible mistake.” 

“Did you burn the bacon?” She looked at him over the rim of her mug, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Nah, breakfast is fine. I think?” He frowned slightly and she giggled. Connor shook his head, breakfast didn’t matter, not really. He sat down the spatula and turned off the heart to the burner. Then he grinned again, a little wider than before. “I meant with the whole day off thing. If I’d stayed home with you, I wouldn’t have gotten my head all mucked up.” 

The only sound in the kitchen was the loud thunk as Abby all but slammed her mug into the counter. She stared him, head cocked and eyes darting across his face. 

“Are you saying you remember?” she asked slowly, eyes narrowing a bit. Uncertain. 

“Yeah. It goes a bit fuzzy around the anomaly, and as to what actually hit me?” He stopped and looked at her quizzically. “Are we entirely certain it wasn’t Becker?”

At that Abby made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and then she launched herself at him. He had all of two seconds to prepare himself before she leapt into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as her arms went around his neck. 

Using her momentum, Connor turned and pressed her back against the fridge. She didn’t seem mind though, she was too busy kissing him for all she was worth. That was nice. Really nice.

“Abby Temple, my wife,” he said when she finally pulled back for air, offering up a soft smile. “We got married on a Friday. Best day of me life.” 

She gave him a broad smile in return. “Connor Temple, my husband. Don’t you ever do that to me again!” She punctuated her remark by smacking his shoulder. Repeatedly. 

“Ow! Well, I didn’t plan it, did I?” He hiked her up once she stopped hitting him. “I made breakfast. Does that earn me any margin of forgiveness?” 

Abby pretended to ponder that for a moment, her legs still locked around his waist and one hand was now tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I suppose it’s a start,” she finally said. 

“Oh, good. A start.” Connor backed up and lowered his hands, fully expecting her to drop back down to the floor. Instead she remained wrapped around him like a monkey on a tree. 

He arched an eyebrow at her in question. Abby grinned like the cat that got the cream, rocking her hips just so. 

“Tell you what, let’s finish what you so gallantly put on hold last night, and maybe I’ll forgive ya the rest of the way.” She rocked her hips again. 

“I suppose we can do that,” he said slowly, his hands finding their way back to her hips for support. “If you like.” 

Because honestly, who was he to deny her anything? Abby smiled again, just a bit wicked, and kissed him. Connor returned the kiss and started walking them back toward the bedroom, fully aware that he was, in fact, the luckiest man on the entire planet.


End file.
